Putting the Super in Supermodel

Today I was reminded what a real supermodel is.  Not the generic, personality deficient girls that pass for 'supermodels' these days thanks to a million twitter followers and an active instagram account,but an honest to God George Michael Freedom! '90s glamazon who rocked through her 40s and still has that look that can stop a motherfucker in their tracks, thinking to themselves, what the fuck, they really make women like this, I thought it was a lie…

Today I met Cindy.

Hot For Teacher - Pam Anderson Edition

There were three things I was determined to do when I moved to LA in 2006: be in a movie, learn how to surf and meet Pamela Anderson.  In the first six months I was an extra in a porn an independent film shot in some guys backyard in the valley that never got released.  Or maybe it did and nobody told me?  I took enough surfing lessons to be able to stand on the board, prompting me to buy a surfboard that nearly blew off the roof of my car driving up the 405 and then sat in the corner of my bedroom for the next three years, never touching the water while I owned it.  And I met the silicone vegan goddess who conquered Tommy Lee's anaconda dick and got the Hep C to prove it.


In New York this week to promote her new book of naked photos in flattering light with the right amount of airbrushing, the gorgeous living legend toned down her signature whore look, opting for a naughty school teacher/MILF look that really suits her.  If she only knew how much I learned from her home videos!

No Guys On Film

Duran Duran must think it's still 1985 and they're the biggest band on the planet rather than a nostalgia act that hasn't been relevant for nearly thirty years.  Leaving The Tonight Show with Jimmy Fallon after promoting their new album blah blah who cares download it for free, bassist John Taylor nastily refused to stop for photos or autographs, douchebag singer Simon LeBon determinedly looked in every direction he could to avoid the cameras, and drummer Roger Taylor caught a ride in Wonder Woman's invisible jet because nobody even saw him leave.  Hell, he may still be at Rockefeller Center for all I know.  Only preening flamingo Nick Rhodes was pleasant to the ten fans still paying any attention to these guys, posing for photos and signing autographs from the comfort of his SUV like some kind of embalmed Elizabeth Taylor/Andy Warhol love child.

Sadly, I'll still be at the Today Show on Thursday before work to see them perform.

Fashion, Turn to the Left

"Every year the women of New York leave the past behind and look forward to the future....this is known as Fashion Week." - Carrie Bradshaw, Sex and the City


Yup, it's that time of year again - pretentious bullshit, filled with cunts, fags and snobs too elite for the average person who just isn’t as “Fabulous” as their exclusive club.  Of course, I love it! 

If Anna Wintour is the Dark Priestess of Fashion Week, Andre Leon Talley is the 80 year old Grand Duchess of some small European country circa 1899 trapped in the body of Grimace from McDonaldland.  Dressed in her finest safari graduation tarp, Andre held court with next level shoe designer Manolo Blahnik, neatly dressed like a lemon leprechaun at an outdoor southern wedding, and it was all I could do not to gag on the glamour these two exuded.  More like pass out from the damn heat in the room.  For the prices Rizzoli charges for books, you'd think they could afford air conditioning.  Fuck!

And what's Fashion Week without models?  While the malnourished robots played clotheshanger on the runway and compared Leonardo DiCaprio sex stories backstage ("He gave you anal on a yacht in St. Tropez too?"), supermodel Beverly Johnson made the rounds peddling her memoir. Beverly is from Buffalo, New York and is my homegirl.  We shared stories of surviving brutal winters, eating legit Buffalo wings (which she promptly threw up afterwards), and getting drugged and raped by Bill Cosby.

Ain't Nothing Real About THIS Housewife!

I know it looks like I'm standing next to a low budget drag queen doing a second rate Pam Anderson impersonation, but that's actually wig wearing melted Barbie walrus Kim Zolciak from The Real Housewives of Atlanta in Times Square last week for the big Dancing With The Stars cast reveal.  If you think she looks like a sloppy leaking Thanksgiving parade balloon on TV, you should see this mess in person, although I'd advise against 8AM on an empty stomach.  #dryheaves  How she's gonna do the Viennese waltz to Tardy for the Party I do not know.

Chaka Khan Let Me Rock Her!

Dancing With The Stars announced the cast of its 21st season this morning on Good Morning America because there's still an audience for has-beens doing the paso doble in too many sequins for a paycheck.  'Merica.  It's another who's who of 'Who are they?'s (© Rick DeMint) and Chaka Khan.  Chaka Khan and a bunch of backup dancers.  Chaka fucking Khan!


Once she gets started there's no stopping Chaka.  She'll go through the fire.  To the limit.  To the wall.  And that mirror ball trophy will join the ten Grammys on her mantle because she's Chaka Khan and she gets what she wants.  I feel for her.  I think I love her.